


to catch a glimpse of sunlight

by themysticalsong



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 23:22:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1204351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themysticalsong/pseuds/themysticalsong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since the kidnapping, he had taken to hovering near her like a constantly buzzing helicopter. She had found him stealing glances at her when he thought she wasn’t looking. He looked at her like he was afraid she was going to evaporate into thin air if he looked away even for a moment. He had insisted that they prepare the dinner together, and had somehow managed to find reasons to touch her. She glanced at Quentin and felt heat rise in her cheeks as she caught herself staring at his hands as he ate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to catch a glimpse of sunlight

**Author's Note:**

> So, this still [http://themysticalsong(.)tumblr(.)com/post/76662452240] demanded a fic, and wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote one. This is unbeta'd and written as I struggled with sleep.
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you all enjoy! xx

 

 

 

 

The dinner was an awkward affair, to say the least. For one night, she wanted to pretend that her family was whole; complete. She wanted to ignore the past years- pretend everything was still just the same. Instead, what she got was Laurel avoiding everyone, snapping when forcibly included into conversations; Sara, desperately trying to keep that smile from slipping in the face of her sister’s cold behaviour. Poor Oliver didn’t know how to act, and just smiled awkwardly. It was slightly frustrating how she felt like she was the only one trying to keep the conversation and mood at the table light. Sara and Oliver tried their best, but it was difficult with Laurel refusing to even smile.

 

 

And then there was Quentin.

 

 

Ever since the kidnapping, he had taken to hovering near her, like a constantly buzzing helicopter. She had found him stealing glances at her when he thought she wasn’t looking. He looked at her like he was afraid she was going to evaporate into thin air if he looked away even for a moment. He had insisted that they prepare the dinner together, and had somehow managed to find reasons to touch her. She glanced at Quentin and felt heat rise in her cheeks as she caught herself staring at his hands as he ate.

 

 

She couldn’t really just blame him, could she? He wasn’t after all the only one finding excuses to touch her. Picking up her glass, she chanced another glance at Quentin and flushed as she saw him gazing at her. She knew this look; was intimately familiar with it. Her throat suddenly dry, she took a big gulp of her drink. And for a moment she felt like no time had passed. If the table wasn’t as long as it was, and they hadn’t had Oliver over for dinner, she would have kicked him under the table.

 

Ducking to hide her smile, she looked at her plate, the memory of a pre-teen Sara making gagging noises flitted through her mind. She had to stifle her laughter. Sara was 12 years old when she had caught her parents engaged in footsie under the very same table. She caught herself soon enough, but not before another memory of his hands sliding up her thigh filled her senses making her rub her thighs together. She bit the inside of her cheek in an attempt to suppress the small moan that threatened to escape her lips. She looked up to see if anyone had noticed, and almost sighed in relief when she noticed her husband's gaze. _Damn that man!_

 

 

__

 

 

 

Dinah almost slumped on the table in relief when Sara and Oliver left and Laurel stormed up the stairs to her room.

 

 

“Tired?” Quentin chuckled behind her as she got up to clear the table.

 

 

She looked at him. “You were there Quentin”, she softly laughed, turning away from him, “not that you were much help with all that staring.” She only hoped she sounded as nonchalant as the words sounded in her mind.

 

 

Her back to him, she didn't notice her husband come to stand behind her. “Noticed that, huh?” she almost jumped, startled at hearing his voice next to her ear. Willing herself to calm down, she turned to face him. Her breath hitched at the intensity in his eyes.

 

 

She took a step back as he leaned closer, breathing out, “Quentin...”

 

 

He moved closer- close enough for her to be able to catch the whiff of the red wine he had with the dinner on his breath, and she wondered if she would be able to taste it too.  

 

 

It took her a moment to realise she had backed them into the table when she couldn’t step back any further. She held her breath as Quentin leaned in, his hands on the table on either side of her. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?”

 

 

She tried to suppress the shiver that danced down her spine as his warm breath caressed her cheek and ear. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest and for a moment she was sure he would be able to hear it. Not trusting her voice, she shook her head before whispering, “No.”

 

 

Tucking a strand behind her ear, he softly caressed her cheek, and smiled when she ever so slightly leaned into his touch.

 

 

She had only a moment to think when his breath softly ghosted over her lips as he spoke, “Let me show you, Di.” Her eyes fluttered shut as he caught her lips in a kiss.

 

 

His hands moved up from where he was gripping her waist, drawing her further into his embrace as his lips moved over hers. Old habits catching up on her, she rose the tiniest bit on her toes to meet him, her fingers curling in his shirt.

 

 

The kiss was hard and perfect, his lips insistent, his tongue, warm and eager, stroking hers. Bringing her arms around him she arched into him, moaning into the kiss. Her moan quickly turned into a gasp as he picked her up and sat her on the table, without breaking the kiss.

 

 

Stepping between her legs, he pulled her further into him, letting her feel his arousal and rolled his hips against hers. Gasping, she broke the kiss, throwing her head back. Kissing along her jaw, he moved down the column her throat, nibbling along his way. Suckling at the juncture where her neck and shoulder met, he brought a hand up to her breast, kneading the soft flesh through the material of her dress.

 

 

Moaning, she scraped her fingers lightly along his scalp, smiling when he groaned in response. Everything felt perfect; his lips teasing and torturing the skin of her neck, fingers toying with her nipples through the dress. Just like old times. All she wanted to do was to climb under his skin. But there was a niggling thought at the back of her mind. There was something that they were missing. Something important. _Laurel! What if she came down?_

 

 

“Seriously, now?” Quentin groaned against her skin, "she must be asleep by now."

 

 

"She could wake up."

 

 

"Don't make any noise then", he whispered it as a challenge, nipping at the expanse of skin. She opened her mouth to speak; unable to help the moan that slipped instead as he brushed his fingers lightly over her nipples and all coherent thought fled her

 

  

“Please—“, she pleaded, her fingers digging into his arm as his other hand slid up her thigh. Her hips bucked as two fingers pressed against her satin clad sex.

 

 

“God, you’re soaking, Di.” She knew she had been ready for him ever since she noticed his hungry gaze. The soft ache then was bordering on discomfort now, and she needed him to relieve her of it. She sobbed in frustration as he continued to tease her, his fingers past the fabric and lightly stroking her swollen bundle of nerves. She whined, fisting his shirt in her hand, as he circled her entrance with his fingers, only tentatively touching.

 

_Two could play that game._ Dinah fumbled with his trousers. Managing to push them down enough to allow her hand to reach, she took him in her hands. She moved her hand along his length varying the pressure, driven by his groans. Scratching lightly with her nails, she softly squeezed him, her thumb teasing the weeping tip and spreading the fluid there evenly along his length.

 

 

He growled, and fisting his hands in her hair, pulled her into a fierce kiss. It was all clashing tongues and teeth; messy, filthy, and delightful. Trapping her lower lip between his teeth, he worried it, lightly nipping before letting go.

 

 

“Quentin, please, love, just—God, please just—“, she began to speak, broken, incomplete phrases begging him to just take her.

 

 

Surging forward at the return of the familiar endearment, Quentin once again kissed her. Bunching the skirt of her dress at her waist, he shoved the fabric aside, both crying out as he entered her in one swift thrust. He stilled for a moment, feeling the familiar heat clutching at him, moving only when she rocked her hips against his. Gripping her thighs, he pulled her closer, setting a deep, hard pace inside her. It didn’t take her long to follow his pace, rolling her hips against every thrust, both of them soon falling into a familiar rhythm.

 

 

She gasped as he leaned forward, pulling her closer, pressing further into her. Lifting her legs up, she wrapped them around his waist, pulling him in, deeper than before. They moaned in unison at the sensation.

 

 

The table creaked, groaning under their weight as they moved, her body undulating, his hips snapping, pumping furiously into her.  No matter how desperately she tried, she couldn’t stop the little cries and moans escaping her at every thrust. Not wanting to wake Laurel, Dinah sunk her teeth in his shoulder to muffle her screams, breathing harshly through her nose, and for a moment, Quentin relished in the fact that it was his doing.

 

 

She could feel herself teeter towards the brink, ready to fall apart, every thrust making her see stars. Her breathing grew shallow, and he could feel the moisture becoming even more wet, her arousal washing over him. Fisting his hands in her hair, he stroked along the nape of her neck. She was always beautiful to him, but it had been ages since he had last seen her like this. With her clothing askew, her hair rumpled and cheeks beautifully flushed, she looked utterly debauched and breathtaking. She nodded mindlessly as he told her so, a fierce whisper against her skin.

 

 

Snaking a hand in between them, he lightly pressed against her clit, increasing the pressure when she whimpered against his lips. Tearing her mouth from his, she gasped, his name a plea and a chant on her lips.

 

 

“God, Di, come for me, please. Let me see you fall apart, love”, he whispered hoarsely, licking the outer shell of her ear.

 

 

His touch felt so right, and oh the pressure. She could feel the liquid heat pooled in her abdomen coil inside her, curling at the base of her spine, as she tightened around him. His words, his hoarse plea was like a command, and she threw her head back, letting the pleasure claim her as it unfurled throughout her body. She screamed as she shattered around him, loud enough to wake up Laurel, and Quentin clamped a hand on her mouth to muffle the sound.

 

 

Trembling with the force of her orgasm, Dinah clung to him, pressing her forehead in the crook of his neck. Pressing a kiss at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, he moved with a renewed fervour, her body still fluttering around him. She ran her hand along his back in soothing motions. Feeling his body tighten, Quentin lowered his head, sinking his teeth in the crook of her neck as he came with a muffled shout of her name.

 

 

Gasping, out of breath, they clung to each other. She smiled against his chest, feeling the erratic thumping of his heart under her hand matching hers. He lightly kissed along her neck, his fingers moving in lazy circles along her back. Feeling colder as the sweat cooled off on their bodies, Dinah whispered the first thought that came to her mind, “Quentin?”

 

 

Too lethargic to even lift his head, he grunted in the hollow of her neck. She was in league with him, too sated, too content to move, but there were pressing concerns. “Darling, I know Laurel is an adult and she knows things, but unless you want her to be scarred for life, we need to move from here.”

 

 

Snorting, Quentin moved away from her. She moaned at the loss, as he slipped out. Pulling on his trousers, he simply zipped them up, not bothering to put on more and turned to help her down from the table. He looked at his wife. Her appearance dishevelled, she looked the very picture of debauchery with her skirt rumpled over her waist, his finger impressions and bites over her neck, her hair mussed up, and he felt a string of arousal flutter through him. Helping her gather the discarded pieces of clothing, he kept stealing glances at her.

 

 

“Quentin, Wha-“, Dinah looked suspiciously at the mischievous glint in his eyes, but before she could say anything, he ducked, sweeping her in his arms, and carried her to the bedroom.

 

 

She shrieked, laughing, and oh he had missed that sound. He regretted losing sight of the most important things in his life in his grief- his family, his wife.  The fear of losing her- his chest tightened at the very thought, and if his grip on her became tighter, Dinah didn’t say anything- had made him realise how incomplete his life was without her. He looked at her- she was looking curiously at him, a smile on her lips, a rosy flush still on her cheeks- and hugged her closer, smiling. He wasn’t going to let her leave this time.

 

 

\---

 

 

He lowered her to the floor, setting her on her own feet once they reached the bedroom. Falling into old habits, she took off her dress. Removing her now ruined knickers, she glanced at him once. He couldn’t help the smirk spreading across his face at the very thought and winked at her. Rolling her eyes, she unsnapped her bra, climbing on the bed and slid under the covers, before looking around.

 

 

He studied her face as she took in her surroundings. His room- _their room-_ it was in almost the same condition as she had left it. The pillows and bedspread she had insisted they buy on a vacation in Greece; the curtains her favourite. Quentin wasn’t much of a reader, and her favourite books were still there on the table by her side. As she turned to face him, her gaze settled on the picture on the wall- _their wedding picture;_ and she blinked back the tears burning at the back of her eyes. “It’s still the same.”

 

 

Sliding in next to her, he pressed a kiss to her shoulder and whispered, twining his fingers with hers, “It’s still yours.”

 

 

She turned to face him, her eyes flicking up to meet his. The love shining in them so sincere, pure, she felt her heart sweel. Then softly, tentatively, as if in a trance, she pressed her lips to his, pouring the raging emotions inside her in that kiss. Bringing his hands to her face, he lightly ran his knuckles along her jaw and cheeks, caressing her as he deepened the kiss, gently licking along the seam of her lips.

 

 

Smoothing her hands down his chest, she lightly scratched her nails along his waist, moving down.  “Make love to me tonight, Quentin, please”, she breathed against his lips, kissing him once again as he rolled them over. Cradling him between her thighs, she gently rolled her hips beneath his.

 

 

The urgency abated earlier, there movements were now slow and languid. His tongue, warm against hers, moved slowly and softly, licking the inside of her mouth, as if mapping her. She ran her hand over his abdominal muscles, smiling fondly at the softness there. He had always kept himself fit, candies being his only weakness, and the soft muscles around his waist were a testament to that. Her heart swelled and she felt she could burst with the sudden surge of emotion. She ground against him, whimpering into his mouth as he brought his hand up to cup her breast, gently kneading the soft flesh. She gasped, breaking the kiss, her head thrown back as he stroked her nipple, chuckling against her neck as he felt the nub pebble under his ministrations.

 

 

Peppering little kisses along her skin, he moved downwards. Taking her breast in his mouth, he rolled his tongue around the hard tip, suckling as she undulated against him. With his other hand he reached between them, teasing her drenched folds. He entered her with two fingers, drawing out the moisture and spreading it over her sex, his thumb circling her clit. Still wet and sensitive from the earlier orgasm, Dinah moaned loudly as his fingers stroked her, stoking the fire inside her. Feeling the familiar pressure climb up her spine, she stopped him, holding his wrist, “Together.”

 

 

He nodded and kissed her once again, bracing his arms on both sides of her head, rising on them. She threw her head back, her lips parting in a soft moan as he entered her. Stilling to calm himself as her wet heat fluttered around him, and kissed her parted lips, beginning to move. She rocked her hips, answering every thrust, her fingers curling around his biceps.

 

 

It felt like coming back home. Their breathy moans mingling, the very air around them charged with their emotions, their moans and her soft sighs the only sound in the room. It felt perfect; a memory from their past, a promise for future. She looked into his eyes, knowing that the longing in them matched her own. He refused to look away, afraid to break the eye contact.

 

 

Gradually he began to lose rhythm, feeling her shudder around him, and his hips stuttered. She struggled to keep her eyes open, her insides tightening, a familiar tingle dancing throughout her body. Her head thrown back, her lips parted in a short, beautiful cry as she fell apart in his arms, bringing him over the edge with her.

 

 

Limp in her arms, he braced himself on his arms to avoid crushing her. Pressing a kiss to her temple, he began to withdraw when she rasped out a hoarse “Stay.”

 

 

“Don’t want to crush you,” he panted into the crook of her neck.

 

 

“You won’t”, pressing a soft kiss on the corner of his lips, she whispered, her words a plea he couldn’t refuse, “Just- just a little while?”

 

 

Manoeuvring them so he was still inside her, soft now, he laid on his back, bringing her with him. She curled into him, her head against his chest, and listened to the erratic thumping of his heart as his fingers drew lazy circles along her spine.

 

 

Tomorrow, she would have to go back. Leave him once again as she struggled through an unsatisfactory job. There were times she wished she hadn’t left, but at that time, it was a necessity. The guilt over what had happened, Quentin’s withdrawal from everything- it had all but consumed her. She couldn’t see her family break apart like that. But now? Now that the old scars had begun to heal- she glanced at his face, slackened in sleep every line relaxed- it felt like they could piece it all together once again. Things had changed, but may be—

 

 

She smiled as his snores filled the room and snuggled closer, feeling herself lulled into sleep by the rhythmic beating of his heart. Some things never change, and may be one day they would be able to piece it all together again. Not tomorrow, but one day.

 

 

 


End file.
